


Trick Questions

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Cute, EMT Ian, First Meetings, Gay Bashing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey doesn't know what the hell is going on. One minute he's walking at night, the next he's opening his eyes to a very good-looking redhead asking him stupid fucking questions.





	

Mickey blinked his eyes open but it was blurred for a moment. His ears were still ringing and he felt too cold in places and too hot in others. When his vision cleared, all he saw was flashing lights behind the freckled face of a man. He was hovering over him, mouth moving, but Mickey had to concentrate to hear.

“Do you know your name, sir? Sir? Can you hear me?” Ian looked on worriedly, as the man under him with the gash in his head stared blankly at him.

Why the fuck wouldn’t I know my name?

Mickey had meant for that to come out of his mouth, but instead he just felt it open and close like a fish without air.

“He’s probably in shock.” He heard someone say to his left, then there was a flashlight in his eyes and a too harsh voice.

“Can you tell me what happened here?! Do you know where you are right now?!”

Jesus, lady, back the hell up! Your fucking knee is on my arm, bitch!

Still, the man’s mouth continued to work with no sound coming out. Ian told his partner to help with the cart, if only to make her go away. She was new and he couldn’t work with her big energy. He held gauze to the man’s head and taped around it to hold it in place. The man winced, looking scared and confused…and angry?

Ouch! That fucking hurts, man!

“Sorry, just need to stop this bleeding til we can get you up in the truck, okay?” Ian assured in a calm voice, despite the noise and chaos around them. Spectators were beginning to crowd, but they weren’t even there as far as he was concerned. He had a job to do.

“Do you know what day it is? Who’s our president?” Ian hated that these were the standard questions he had to ask. He didn’t even know who his fucking mailman was, let alone who it was running their country into the ground at the current time. He took the guy’s face in his gloved hands, smearing some of the blood away. He carefully turned it from side to side, sure he didn’t have a neck injury. Who would throw a brick at this guy with pale skin and blue eyes?

Mickey stared up into green eyes, noticed red hair. He flinched when the man checked all his parts. They still moved.

“Good, good,” Ian said quietly. Why the hell it was taking so long for the team to get the damn stretcher, he didn’t know, but he was glad for the time to work. The guy was starting to react more to his touch, and follow his movements with his eyes.

Mickey wasn’t sure what was so good, but for some reason he wanted to keep pleasing this guy. He tried to sit up, but he felt strong hands guide him back down to the ground.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you’re alright. I got you. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” Ian showed three fingers. He knew the guy could see, but he really needed to get him talking. It wasn’t just for the legal reasons, which seemed stupid in an emergency, but he genuinely needed to know and make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt. For some reason, he cared about whether this guy made it. He could sense this was a targeted attack and not just a wrong place wrong time scenario.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Milkovich. He was a fucking Milkovich and it didn’t matter how much he thought he’d escaped, he would always be a Milkovich. Dead or alive.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ian soothed, seeing how hard the man was working to answer, although he looked like he wouldn’t even if he could. He probably knows who did this. He looks ashamed and scared.

Mickey didn’t even feel the tears on his face until they were being wiped away. He needed his brain to get with the program so he could get away from this guy’s scrutiny, although it looked like genuine concern. Nobody looked at him like they cared if he lived or died. He probably wasn’t going to. This was a warning, not a sentence. He couldn’t look away from the medic’s face, though. Somehow he felt calm with him talking to him. He just needed something to latch onto and pull him up from this fog.

“Will you go out on a date with me?” Ian asked hopefully.

Something sparked in Mickey brain and his heart beat faster.

“Yes.”

Yes? YES?! Of all the shitty words, that was the first one that came out?

A smile split Ian’s face, eyes going wide and eyebrows shooting up. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his luck. “Well that worked, huh?”

Was this guy teasing him or flirting? Jesus! The guy’s laugh and smile were great, though. Mickey felt his own mouth twitch.

“Gotta know your name if we’re going on this date, right?” Ian pushed, trying to keep him talking now that he’d jump-started the right something. And maybe he was partially glad he hadn’t gotten cussed out or punched.

“M-Mickey,” Mickey croaked, wetting his lips and tasting blood.

Ian nodded, “Good. Great. We’re gonna put you in the bus now, okay?”

Mickey nodded slowly, then started to panic. They’d find him at the hospital. He grasped the medic’s arm tightly.

“You’re alright. I’ve got you. My name’s Ian.”

Mickey was lifted onto a bed, strapped in and put in the back of the ambulance. His head really hurt, but he fought to stay awake the whole ride. It was made easier by watching and listening to Ian.

//////////////

Mickey blinked his eyes open, not knowing when he must have fallen asleep on the couch. But he was in bed. No, this wasn’t his bed. He looked around. He was in a hospital room with an IV in his hand and a morphine drip that was starting to wear off. He touched his head and felt bandages. What the hell happened?

A nurse came in and began puttering all around him like he wasn’t even awake. Maybe he wasn’t and this was all a dream, but then a familiar face walked in looking happy to see him. He wasn’t used to that.

“Ian,” was the first thing Mickey breathed, the name coming to him easily.

Ian smiled wider and nodded. “Good. And can you tell me your name?”

“Mickey.”

“Good,” Ian said, coming to stand by the bed. It had taken a lot of convincing for him to stay, but he’d promised he wouldn’t leave. And he was glad to see Mickey awake.

“How’s Friday night?” He asked hopefully.

Mickey smiled. “Yeah. It’s good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because apparently Australian first responders won’t be able to ask who the prime minister is? *sigh*


End file.
